


Don't Let Your Yearnings Get Ahead of Your Earnings

by Skalidra



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bounty Hunters, Alternate Universe - Western, M/M, Non-Sexual Bondage, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 15:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20909573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skalidra/pseuds/Skalidra
Summary: "Slade."The tension that draws Todd up a little is interesting, as is his immediate, "As in Wilson?"Slade quirks an eyebrow, watching the side of the kid's face. "Heard of me, hm?""Yeah," Todd says, after a couple seconds, "once or twice." Then, quieter and with more feeling, "Fuck."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome everyone! This is the first of my two DCU Bang fics. I had the pleasure of working with ClarityHiding, AKA theMandyLion for this one, and she's got some good art to go with. (I am... sorry but also absolutely not sorry about this title. Look, I typed 'cowboy sayings' into google and this came up and if you thought I wasn't using it once I saw it, you would be mistaken.)
> 
> Enjoy!

The kid puts up a hell of a fight. By the time Slade’s got the ‘Red Hood’ disarmed and bound, he’s got four different, shallow cuts from the jagged knife carving through his duster, and one bullet graze along his ribs. That’s only the fresh stuff; the slightly older bullet hole in his left arm aches something fierce after their tussle, the first souvenir the little bastard gave him after spotting him coming. Kid’s fast, a damn good shot, and fought like a cornered wolf once he finally got him off his horse.

‘Jason Todd’ is going to be a hefty payday, but Slade wouldn’t have taken the damned job if he’d known the kid was going to be such a pain in the ass to take down. He expected some standard young outlaw with more balls than brains and a fondness for guns, not a sharpshooter that he’d have to chase halfway to the next town.

Bleeding, and irritated, Slade decides as he pats the kid down that he’s not going to take any more ‘alive and unharmed’ bounties for at least a good year, unless the pay is truly absurd. These bastards are always more trouble than they’re worth, whether it’s a runaway rich kid, screaming and crying every moment of the trip, or someone like this ‘Red Hood;’ dangerous and slippery.

Slade ignores the kid cussing him out as he searches him, and then the surprised yelp when he cups his groin, quickly followed by more vigorous shouting. The kid’s inventive, he’ll give him that. He’s heard a lot of insults in his time, but Todd swears like some of the more foul-mouthed sailors he’s met over the years, or the street rats in the big cities to the East. Amusing, more than irritating, but if he does continue to be this loud maybe Slade will do his ears a favor and put together a makeshift gag.

He throws the two other knives he finds tucked in the kid’s vest as far as his arm will take them, out into the grass, before flipping him onto his back with a heave at the ropes looped around his arms and chest. There's dirt smeared on his face, and the split lip near one corner of his mouth has gotten blood mixed up in it too. 'Unharmed' is just going to have to mean that he didn't shoot the kid, or break any of his limbs. There's no way in hell he could have gotten the squirmy little bastard restrained without giving out a few bruises in the process. If he gets the kid back without anything more serious than that little cut, he'll call it a win. And Sionis had damn well better do the same.

Face to face, the kid takes the opportunity to stop cursing him out exactly long enough to spit in his face.

He's had people do a lot worse than spit at him, but right at the moment he's too irritated to think about how relatively inconsequential the saliva rolling down his cheek is. He grabs the kid by the jaw and shoves it up, forcing his teeth together and pinning his head back against the dirt. He struggles, but Slade’s tied up more men and women than he has animals; the ropes will hold, and he's more than strong enough to keep his grip.

“Alright, kid, let’s talk for a minute here.”

Todd, glaring up at him with blue-green eyes his bounty sketch didn’t really capture the color of, spits something muffled but clearly furious at him through the press of his teeth.

“Yeah, I get that,” Slade says, lifting his other hand to wipe the spit away. Bluffs have served him well, throughout his career, and it's without a hint of a lie that he adds, “But you'd best calm down, boy, before I get tempted to put a bullet in you. You understand that?"

Just in case, he twists the kid's head sideways before he eases the pressure enough to allow an answer. No spitting, this time.

He's half-expecting more yelling, but the kid bares his teeth and snaps, "You're not gonna do shit," in a quieter, roughened voice instead. Not a hint of doubt in him. Slade lifts an eyebrow, and the kid barks a laugh. "You didn't even touch your gun the whole chase. Either you're a shit enough bounty hunter that you forgot to get bullets, or that bounty's got a short fucking leash on it. Either way, you haven't shot me by now, you're not going to shoot me at all."

So, perceptive on top of being skilled. It would have been nice to know all of this before he took the damned bounty.

"Fair enough," he concedes, narrowing his eye. "You're worth a good chunk of money to the right people, kid. They want you back still in one piece, though, so that's what it's gonna be. Doesn't mean that it's going to be feather pillows and rose water. Now if you behave, this could be a lot easier on both of us. Or you can make it hard."

The kid's teeth set together. Hard it is.

"Alright, then."

He gets to his feet, leaving the kid in the dirt while he collects their horses. His — big, black, and powerful, one of the few he's ever found to take his weight with ease — is long since used to the antics that his targets put up sometimes, and follows him easily back to the grass near the kid, settling in to wait at a pat of his hand and murmured command. The snarling of the kid only gets a tilt of ears and a displeased huff. The kid's horse, on the other hand, is more skittish. Pretty, though, a bay mare leaning towards red instead of brown, with a thick black mane and tail. Nearly bites him, before he gets the reins more securely in his hand and his body too close to do any real damage to. Not so different from Todd himself.

Slade wouldn't be adverse to leaving her, but she settles some once he's in close and can get his other hand on her neck. The supplies packed in on the saddle will undoubtedly be useful, and if the kid settles down too it wouldn't be bad to have a second horse on hand. Todd's not small, and if he can save Diablo having to carry both of them, he'll do it. If it doesn't risk him having to chase the kid down again. (Once was more than enough, as far as he's concerned.)

The mare's not as pleased at the idea of coming close to her loudly complaining master, but she does with a little coaxing, and lets Slade fasten her reins to his saddle with a short length of rope. Enough to keep her nearby, not close enough that she's like to bite his leg if he stops paying attention.

Then, he turns his attention to Todd. Still cursing, still struggling. Maybe wearing him out will make him a little more cooperative.

He double-checks his work before anything else, tugging at the knots and making sure that the kid doesn't have any slack to work with, or anything that his hands (up near his neck, arms tight against his chest) can reach to pick at. Then he takes another of the coils of rope and drags Todd around till he’s back behind the horses. The kid tries to bite him while he’s looping his new length of rope in under the others, and enough amusement breaks through the irritation to make him snort.

Yeah, he can see why the kid likes that mare.

Both ends of the rope get tied to the pommel of his saddle, and only when he’s sure it’s secure does Slade head back. He pulls the knife strapped down against his thigh, kneeling down and enjoying, just a little, how it makes the kid finally shut up. He's eyeing the knife with wariness, so Slade lowers it to tap, threateningly, against the slight bulge at his crotch. Todd's breath comes in sharp bursts, tension wiring him so tight Slade wouldn't be surprised if he snapped right in half.

"If you can behave," Slade drawls, keeping his voice low as he lifts the blade slightly, "you can ride with me." A second tap, and Todd gives a full body flinch. "Are you going to behave, boy?"

Todd's sucking air in through his teeth, gaze wild. His voice shakes a little, but he still spits, "Go to hell." For all his confidence about not being shot, he looks like he expects Slade to actually use the knife. It's brave, actually. Stupid, but brave. Be smarter to promise to 'behave,' whether he means it or not.

Not that Slade would believe him for an instant even if he did.

He smirks, and flips the edge of his duster back so he can sheath the knife again. Good to know it's a threat that Todd actually believes, but that doesn't mean it's one he can follow through on. Doesn't matter; there are other ways to get someone to cooperate than hurting them.

Todd stares at him, slow to understand, as he easily picks apart the knot holding the rope around his legs tight. Just enough to loosen it, before he takes one end in hand and gets to his feet, pulling it free as he heads back to Diablo. He can hear the scuffling in the grass and dirt behind him, as Todd presumably kicks free of the rope as it comes off his legs. An easy step and swing of his weight gets Slade up in his saddle, and he looks back to see how far the kid's gotten as he idly coils the rope with both hands.

All the way to his feet, apparently. Staggering a bit, but up. Eyeing the looped rope attaching him to Slade's saddle with a newfound understanding, too.

"I'd suggest you keep up, kid," he comments, tying off the loop and securing the bundle at his waist. Just in case he needs it. "We've got a lot of ground to cover."

"You son of a—”

Slade cuts him off with a low whistle and a light tap of his heels, just enough to urge Diablo into a walk, guided by the press of his knees for a moment before he picks the reins back up. Todd's mare follows with all the lovely born instinct of a herd animal, and judging by the cursing, so does Todd. Less instinctually.

He'll give it a minute or two before he picks up the pace; then they'll see if the kid still has the breath to complain.

* * *

Slade takes the time, as he's running the kid, to take stock of the injuries he took in the fight. He sheds his duster for a bit, draping it over the saddle, and takes a look at the places where his shirt is torn and now stained with the darker red of drying blood. Probably irretrievably, which is annoying only in the fact that it meant the kid got close enough to do it. Slade doesn't particularly care that he'll have to throw the shirt out, he just doesn't like the story it tells.

The cuts are shallow, probably thanks to the thick leather of his duster being in the way of that knife the kid had. Two along his right side, horizontal and clearly an attempt at gutting him, one high up near his left pectoral, and the last on his right bicep, an irritating mirror to the already-bound bullet hole in his left. That's bleeding again, but not heavily enough to have soaked through the bandage. He can properly stitch it once they've made camp. The rest, he thinks he just needs to patch over and keep an eye on. Even the bullet graze along the right side of his ribs, just between those cuts, is just a graze. Nothing that won't heal in a few days.

He's lucky. If the kid had aimed for anything more vital in that first shot, or been any better with that knife, Slade might be stuck in town, nursing a crippled limb and having failed a bounty for the first time in over a decade. He'd have won the fight, of course, but Sionis didn't want a corpse with a hole in its head. Todd's not worth anything dead.

Guiding with knees and heels instead of the reins, he leans back to pop open the right saddlebag to collect the basic medical supplies he carries with him, and then gets to work. The cuts, and the graze, he just bandages with the cloth. The bullet hole, he leaves alone for now. It's bound already, and swapping that out before he's ready to stitch is asking for trouble. He's damn well not doing it on the horse.

The kid keeps up for a good few hours, walking and jogging behind the horse in turns as Slade adjusts their pace. He keeps a hand on the rope once he’s done patching himself up, letting that keep him apprised of the tension on it, so he doesn’t have to keep looking back. Slowly it tightens.

Slade doesn’t pull the horses to a stop until, with a sudden jerk, it goes completely taut.

A click of his tongue and slight nudge to the reins gets Diablo to circle around, coming back to where the kid’s down on his knees. The back of his shirt and vest is drenched in sweat, and his hair’s gone an even darker black with it, curling at the ends. He looks up, though, as Slade draws to a stop next to him. His mouth’s parted to gasp, hair clinging to his forehead, eyes a hot mix between desperation and anger. Breathless and exhausted isn’t a bad look on him.

Slade takes a look up at the sky. Makes a show of judging where the sun’s at, though he’s been keeping an eye on it the whole time.

“We’ve got a couple more hours of light before we’ll have to camp,” he comments, making sure to keep his voice idle.

He can see how Todd braces himself, hands curling tight where they’re bound, expression clearly showing both the determination and resignation of having to endure more of this. He probably could; he’s only fallen once, and Slade doesn’t necessarily have to push any faster than a walk. But getting the kid to pass out isn’t the goal.

He leans forward onto the pommel of the saddle, catching and holding Todd’s eye. “You ready to be on the horse?”

For a moment, that anger flares back to life. The kid really looks like he’s going to tell Slade to go to hell for the second time, and doom himself to staggering along behind on doubtlessly aching legs. Then, with a glance at the horses, and a second one towards the sky, he visibly gives in. His head lowers.

“Yeah.”

It’s rough, breathless, and quiet, but Slade’s not going to do either of them the disservice of pretending he didn’t hear it.

"Alright. Come on then, kid, on your feet. Over here."

Todd looks more than a little mutinous, but he does it. His legs hold when he gets up, even if he does stagger a little bit walking over, and Slade slips his foot out of the stirrup to offer it to him as a step. He won't get all the way up without his arms, but he'll get enough momentum for Slade to heft him the rest of the way.

Todd clearly has some of the same thoughts, because he eyes the stirrup, and then the height of Diablo's shoulder, with trepidation. They're both lucky the kid's tall, otherwise Slade really would have to just lift him into the saddle, and the bullet hole in his arm might not be happy about that. As it is, the only issue is getting past the kid's worry of falling back off.

"I'll do the rest," Slade promises, setting the reins down and holding both hands out. "I've got you, kid. Up you come."

He gets a sour look for his reassurance, but Todd lifts a foot into the stirrup and, after a clearly bracing moment, bounces his weight once and shoves up. Slade catches him by shoulder and chest, and it costs a grunt of effort and a bit of pain in both his arms, but he gets Todd settled on the saddle in front of him without any real problem. Diablo huffs and steps sideways in complaint, but he'll be fine. Not the first bounty Slade's carried this way, won't be the last; kid's just a bit bigger than most of them.

"You cause any trouble and I'll shove you back off," he warns as he reaches around to get the reins back in his hands, more idly than anything else.

Todd only snorts, still obviously trying to catch his breath.

A tap of his heels gets Diablo moving again, and it only takes a few minutes for Todd to ease back against his chest, head on his shoulder and breathing finally evening out. Kid must have really pushed himself before he fell, more than was smart, definitely. He's got a viciously determined streak to him; Slade's pretty sure it's more than just standard fragile pride. If that determination had been aimed towards a smarter goal, he might even have been impressed.

It's quiet for a long time, with only the sound of nature and both of them breathing to break the silence. Diablo holds a steady pace, hooves crunching through the dried out grass in counterpoint to the mare’s as they head back in the direction of Sionis’ patch of land. The sun creeps towards the mountains.

Finally, Todd speaks.

"What's your name?" He sounds as tired as the lean of his body suggests, but his breathing’s long since slowed to a normal pace, and the sweat’s mostly dried off his forehead and neck.

He takes a glance down at the kid. "Does it matter?"

There's a shift of shoulders against him that he's pretty sure is meant to be a shrug. "You know my name. Seems fair."

Fair's not exactly part of the equation, but what the hell? Kid put up a good fight, and unless Slade's misjudged Sionis, he's got nothing ahead of him but a slow death. It's minimal risk.

"Slade."

The tension that draws Todd up a little is interesting, as is his immediate, "As in Wilson?"

Slade quirks an eyebrow, watching the side of the kid's face. "Heard of me, hm?"

"Yeah," Todd says, after a couple seconds, "once or twice." Then, quieter and with more feeling, "_Fuck_."

Slade's mouth curves up a bit, amused despite himself. Most people that aren't in the business of bounties don't recognize his name, but it's a little gratifying that the kid does, and apparently is familiar enough with it to know that it complicates his situation. Or makes it simpler, depending on how he looks at things.

"Roman put the bounty up," the kid asks next, but without any of the intonation to make it sound like a real question. He might as well be reading off a sign.

So, Slade is equally careless about his, "Yep."

The kid shifts, head turning enough to look up at him. "How much?" There's morbid curiosity there, this time.

Instead of answering, Slade twists enough to get his hand in one of the outer pockets of the saddlebag, and pull out the rolled up paper of the bounty. Todd can't hold it with his arms tied like they are, so Slade just loops the reins over his wrist and uses both hands to pull the paper open.

Todd looks, laughs, then says, "Really pissed him off, I guess. Always was a little crazy, though."

He's curious, in a detached way, exactly what Todd did to upset the man, but he hasn't gotten this far in life by letting passing fancies overcome his professionalism. He doesn't need to know why, only what he's getting paid and what he's walking into. Twelve-hundred isn't the highest he's taken, by far, but it seemed like a reasonable rate at the time. One random 'traitor' to a more than presumably illegal business, with a personal vendetta and a special request mixed in to justify the extra. Now, Slade's inclined to wonder what exactly Todd did, and whether he's actually getting underpaid for the work.

Too late, regardless. He took the bounty as is, and nothing was seriously misrepresented. Just glazed over.

He snorts, wrapping his fingers back around the reins. "Going to try and convince me he's not going to pay me, kid?" Wouldn't be the first time. They really do think they're all original.

There's a moment where the kid looks like he's considering it, but then he shakes his head. "You're not an idiot, and he's not either. He'll pay you; you're too useful of a contact to burn that bridge."

"Then what's your point?"

Another half-shrug. "There are just obviously things Roman didn't tell you. You wouldn't have taken the job if you knew, from what I know of your reputation, so just figured I'd tell you that you don't want to be in the middle of this."

"Nothing to do with trying to convince me to let you go, I'm sure." Slade idly adjusts Diablo's heading towards a copse of skinny trees, a little further into the grass from where he remembers the nearest road being. Sun will be dipping past the mountains before too much longer; best to get settled now. "I don't really care what's between you two, kid. I hand you off, get paid, and you stop being my problem."

The kid snorts, quietly, but doesn't try and argue. It's nothing Slade hasn't heard before, from dozens of people. Every other target tries some variation of trying to convince him that his employer isn't trustworthy, or won't pay, or there will be 'consequences' to turning them in. Rarely, they're telling the truth. Most times, they're not.

When they get close enough to see, Slade takes a closer look at the copse. The trees are thin, leaves sparse but present, though not providing anything but the barest of shade. More importantly, some of them are just sturdy enough to tie the kid to, and they'll definitely hold the horses. It's good enough.

He gets off the horse first, but keeps a hand on the rope still connecting Todd to the saddle's pommel. He doesn't trust for a second that the kid wouldn't take the opportunity to try and race off without him. He wouldn't get anywhere, but better to keep him under control and not give even the opportunity. He leads both horses to one of the trees, securing them there with decent leads, then finally comes back to the kid. Unfortunately, this time, there's no choice but to just lift him straight off.

He swallows the grunt of pain back behind his teeth, and doesn't waste any time dragging the kid to a tree that looks strong enough to hold him, and far enough from the horses that he won't try anything dumb while Slade sleeps. Now, the kid fights. Just enough to give him a bit of trouble, but all he's got are his legs and his teeth, and that's not enough to stop Slade from shoving him down and tying him tight to the trunk. Won't be comfortable, but that's not his problem.

Ignoring the kid's snarling is easy enough. He's got work to do, and that starts with dealing with the damned hole in his arm.

It hurts like a bitch, but it's a straight through-and-through, nothing badly damaged far as he can tell, and no excessive amount of blood to warn him of an artery. The stitches on the back side aren't his neatest, but they'll do to close it. He's got enough scars, anyway. What does he care about one more?

Todd goes quiet eventually, watching him as he moves about setting up the camp. Pulls the saddle off Diablo, and then after some consideration, Todd's mare as well. She doesn't succeed in biting him, and doesn't try to kick, which he'll take as progress. Then it's the fire, and unpacking just enough to pull free his bedroll, and enough food for the both of them. Just something simple to heat; he's not interested in cooking, and he's not about to try and catch anything to add some flavor. The kid will get what he gets.

It's right as the food gets finished that the wind kicks up. Strong, shaking the meager tops of the trees as it slices past. Going to be a cold night, that’s for sure.

He brings the food over to share, getting a glare and then a complaint about the still bound arms, but ultimately cooperation. Hunger wins out over most things, in his experience. Slade spends the time between bites considering the fire and how the embers are traveling in the wind.

When the bowl’s empty, he immediately gets up and kicks dirt onto the fire, smothering it till not even a stray glow remains. There’s still just enough light to see by, but that won’t last long, and the moon rising from the opposite horizon’s only a thin sliver in the sky.

“Need a piss?” he calls over his shoulder, as he moves far enough from the main part of their camp to do so himself.

Given the silence, and then when he finishes and turns back the tight clench of the kid’s jaw, the answer’s ‘yes.’ Yeah, they always have trouble with this part.

"Alright, kid, let's go then."

The kid waits exactly long enough for him to loosen the ropes tying him to the tree before struggling. Not that it accomplishes anything, just means that Slade has to drag him to his feet and drive him forward to near the same spot he relieved himself.

"Get _off_ me," the kid snarls, when Slade drops a hand to his belt. Aims a vicious heel back at his ankle that nearly hits.

Alright, new tactic.

A tight arm under the kid's throat pulls him up on his toes, struggling too much for balance to try any more kicking. "Knock it off, kid. It's this or piss yourself in the middle of the night, and I don't think you want that either."

Todd chokes slightly, hips jerking to try and dislodge his hand, but has enough breath to grit out, "Don't need you fucking holding me."

Sure, he'll throw him a bone. One way out. "Tell you what. You look me in the eye and convince me you won't cause any trouble, I'll untie a hand and let you do it yourself. That's not hard, right?"

The silence, apart from the clink of metal as he finally gets the damn belt apart, is definitely damning. They both know that there's no way that Todd, one arm free, wouldn't put up a fight about getting bound again. Maybe sprint off into the grass, even. Slade's had enough of chasing for the day, and he's had enough of fights. Kid would have to be damn convincing to get himself any kind of freedom.

Todd sucks in a sharp breath when Slade slides his hand down, pushing the kid's clothes apart enough to get his dick out. Twitches, jerks, but goes still. Wound tighter than a spring, but still.

"Relax," Slade murmurs, tilting his head to say it close to the kid's ear. "Not going to get anywhere with you this tense."

"Easy for you to say," the kid hisses. "You're not the one with someone else's hand on his dick."

It's really too good to pass up. "I've had plenty of peoples hands on my dick, kid. Gotten my hands on more than a few, too." Another small choking sound, this time having nothing to do with Slade's arm. "All you've gotta do is relax. Let go. Promise it's not that hard, kid."

The kid squirms. Nothing happens.

Maybe a more direct approach, for the kid's first time.

He loosens his grip just a touch, sliding back so the kid's dick is held by a loose circle of his fingers, rather than a more secure grip. His hand's just big enough that he can stretch it out then, and press the base of his wrist hard into the kid's pelvis. Todd makes a sound like the air's been punched out of him, trying to jerk backwards but getting stuck between Slade's hand and his body. He keeps the pressure, shifting the angle slightly until finally the kid swears, colorfully, and loses the fight he's having with his own body. Even in the dim light, the red flush all over the kid's cheeks and down his neck is easily visible.

"Not so hard, is it?" he teases, after he's tucked the kid away again, and redone the belt. The flush hasn't eased at all.

"Fuck you," is all he gets, low and humiliated.

He'll get over it.

Slade pulls him towards the bedroll he laid out, and actually gets him almost all the way there before the kid seems to realize they're not heading back to the tree. Then he balks, and Slade bites back a sigh and shoves him the last couple of feet. Hard enough to make him topple over and hit the ground on his side, immediately scrambling to get back up. It's easy enough to take the coiled rope at his waist and drop down on the kid's calves to keep him in place, ignoring the squirming and cursing until he's got those long legs lashed together and suitably restrained.

Then he shoves the kid's head down against the bedroll, cutting him off just long enough to say, "We can't have a fire without setting the whole place alight, kid, and it's going to be cold tonight. You're no good to me if you freeze, so shut up and calm down. Not going to touch you, you've got my word."

Though it's possible Todd wouldn't mind so much, given the lack of real reaction to his comment about getting his hands on dicks. A little shock is a pretty minor thing, relatively. Most men start calling him names and trying to defend their own masculinity when he makes any implication that he likes anything but women. He's never cared, and anyone stupid enough to try and pick a fight with him about it has regretted it.

The ones who don't react are usually the ones with some unorthodox interests of their own. Or curiosities, at least.

His explanation seems to do the trick. Todd glares at him, but doesn't kick up a fuss about getting manhandled back around to lie the right direction on the bedroll. Slade leaves him there for a minute, doing one last check of the fire and the horses, before circling back around.

He sheds his duster before lying down at the kid's back, pulling that over them both as a first layer, and then the blanket itself as a second. The kid's tense, stiff as a board with his head dropped down against the bedroll. Slade considers, for a couple moments, the chances that the kid might bite him before he folds his arm and slides it in under both their heads. It eases the uncomfortable looking angle of the kid's neck, at least. No immediate biting.

Still, he takes the time to say, “You bite me and I'm going to be very unhappy, kid,” as he shifts his head, trying to avoid resting directly on the bullet hole in his arm. Nowhere's perfect, but the pain's not going to be bad enough to keep him awake.

The kid's breath is warm even through the barrier of his shirt. “I'm not going to bite you.” Quiet, grumbling, but it sounds sincere enough.

“Good. Then get some rest; we'll get moving in the morning.”

A snort. “Yeah, sounds like fun.”

Slade closes his eyes and lets his mouth draw into an amused smile, hidden at the back of Todd's head where he can't see it. Kid's got a hell of a mouth on him, that's for sure.


	2. Chapter 2

Slade wakes just as the sky starts to lighten, dawn on its way but not yet actually arrived. Normally he wakes quickly — habit born of years of military service, even before his years of traveling alone — but this morning comes slower. When he shifts, there's a warm body lined up against his, tucked in under his arm. It takes a moment to remember who that is, after breathing in and nearly tasting the sour edge of sweat on his tongue.

Todd. Right.

He opens his eye, confronted immediately by the head of black hair in front of him, resting on the fold of his elbow. Hair's just a bit greasy, and he certainly smells. If they come across a stream, he'll see about getting the kid to wash off. Preferable to smelling him the whole time, plus he doubts the kid's going to behave well enough to stay on the horse the whole time, so it'll only get worse. Be good to wash that blood-and-dirt mixture off his face too, before they run into anyone else.

Kid's still asleep. Breathing deep and even, still dead to the world. Slade moves slowly, propping himself a bit higher to look down at the kid without waking him.

A good jaw, straight nose, eyelashes long enough to frame his eyes nicely, if Slade remembers what they look like when they're open accurately enough. The thick black hair curls slightly at the ends, long enough to grab, not long enough to get in his eyes. He's tall, lean but undoubtedly strong, still relatively young, too. When he's not glaring, he's undeniably handsome. Not pretty, most definitely masculine, but Slade tends to prefer that.

Not that he's got any business admiring a target.

With that in mind, he pulls his arm out from under Todd's head, getting a sleepy, complaining grumble of sound but nothing else. That's fine for now; there are still things to do before they get moving.

With the kid still passed out, Slade gets to work. The wind's died down, so he rebuilds the fire and sets a couple cans of food to heat, before circling around to the horses. Todd's mare seems friendlier with him, but he keeps an eye out anyway as he relocates all of the supplies to her. He doesn't trust Todd even remotely close to enough to let him sit his own horse, and Diablo will fare better with less weight on him. Until that changes, she can carry the rest.

He comes back to the kid still sleeping, but it only takes a small shake of his shoulder and a murmured, "Come on, kid, time to get moving," to get him to wake up.

It's easy to see the moment he remembers exactly what his situation is. A shift of movement, heavily restrained by the ropes, and the sleepy confusion sharpens into anger. Honestly, the kid's not any less handsome when he's glaring, either.

"Morning. Breakfast's ready."

Todd grunts, and flops over onto his back, staring up at the sky. "Morning. Guess getting a hand to hold the spoon's still out of the question?"

"Be happy to, if you can convince me you're not going to try and stab me with it. Otherwise, no."

"Stab you with a spoon? Sounds like a pretty shitty idea if you ask me, unless I go for your other eye or something." Slade smiles, amused much more than threatened, and Todd snorts. "Fine, let's just get it over with. Bet I don't get to hold my own dick either, right?"

"That’s right."

Todd's jaw tightens. "Great."

* * *

They get moving quickly enough, despite the complaining. Kid's moving a little stiffly, not surprising, but he settles into the saddle with only a bit of wincing. Sun's warm, only a few scattered clouds to block it as they start to move. His hat blocks the worst of it, but the kid doesn't have one. Did, when Slade first saw him; god knows where it ended up. Well, it won't kill him. A little sunburn won't cross the line into 'harming' him either.

The kid stays leaned back against his chest, head turned in towards his neck to get as much of the shade from his hat as possible. It makes Slade consider the potential threat of having teeth that close to his throat, but he banishes it to the back of his mind. Todd doesn't strike him as vicious enough to do that. A vocal complainer, and certainly a fighter, but not vicious enough to try and tear out a throat after he's already been beaten. If he's wrong, well, it's not likely to be enough to kill him.

"Thirsty?" Slade asks eventually, keeping his voice low to make the shattering of the silence less jarring.

The kid still flinches a little, but then breathes out and settles again. "Yeah."

No water sources yet. He's got a couple bags of it; warm, but it'll do.

Todd makes a little disgruntled sound at the first sip, but doesn't actually complain. Must be used to it, so whatever he did for Sionis, it must not have all been in that fancy manor house he's got. That, or the kid did a fair bit of wandering before he started working there. Not really his business, same as whatever the kid did to get the bounty on his head.

He has some himself before he refastens it to the saddle, judging what's left, how long it'll last. Enough for a bit more; he can get the other bag from Todd's mare whenever they need it.

A few minutes go past in silence, before Todd breaks it again with, "Can I ask you a question?"

Slade looks down, arching an eyebrow. "What am I going to do, gag you?"

The kid tilts his head back, eyes narrowed. "Yeah, probably."

He can't quite help snorting, or the smile that crooks his mouth. "Fair. Guess you'd better keep it short then, hm, kid?"

Todd snorts back, less amused. He apparently considers his words more carefully, gaze returning to straight ahead of them. After a couple moments, the kid starts, "Last night, you…” He stops, clears his throat. Stiffens a bit.

Ah, yes, Slade knows exactly what this is about. "Go on," he prompts.

"You said you uh… That my…”

This time, Slade resists the urge to snort. The kid will surely figure out how to say the word 'dick' eventually, though it's entertaining watching him stumble over it. They're always a little shy at first.

When the kid manages to get out, "You said you'd had your hands on other… dicks," it's through gritted teeth. And, with an abject refusal to look at him. The flush decorating the side of his face makes the whole exercise pointless, but the kid is really trying to preserve some pride.

"I did."

Todd squirms a bit. "So are you…? Uh…?"

There's a limit to what's entertaining, and this hasn't passed it yet, but Slade decides to take pity on the kid. Just for now. "Do I like men?" he finishes, making no effort to hide his amusement.

The noise that comes out of Todd is somewhere between confirmation and a strangled kind of horror.

"Sometimes." He doesn't see any harm in being honest. The kid's not going to tell anyone, and even if he did, Slade wouldn't care. "I also had a wife. Three children. Some of us don't stick to one side or another, kid."

The kid shifts again, tensing up enough that Diablo snorts displeasure at the pressure against his sides. That's enough to get him to ease at least the grip of his knees, before Slade has to say anything about it, but it's a moment more before he mutters, "I know that."

Hm, so the kid's like him. It was clear enough that he wasn't standard, but that's a pleasant surprise.

Slade eyes the side of the kid's slightly bowed head, and the tense line of his shoulders. Told flat out he's in like company, and still the kid expects violence. Not surprising, just a little sobering. Sometimes, living the life he does, it's easy to forget how much his kind of tastes attract hatred. Clearly it's all the kid knows. He's probably never had someone react in any other way. Shame, that. Kid's damn good looking.

"I figured."

The kid jerks like someone hit him, head snapping around to stare at him. "What the fuck do you mean by that?"

"Relax," Slade orders, not letting the bite to the kid's words affect him. It's just panic, hidden under anger because that's sure as shit safer than being afraid. He's seen the same reaction a hundred times. "You're not obvious, kid. You're fine. But when I imply I've had sex with men, usually I get a little more reaction than a bit of shock. Men that aren't interested in the same? They get violent. It's a dead giveaway, if you're paying attention."

Todd stares at him for a couple seconds, then slowly his anger gives. His head dips again, turning away before Slade can fully read what his expression's turning into. It's not a hard guess, though.

"It's fine, kid. No one here to judge; no point in being ashamed of what you are."

A reassurance he's definitely given more than once. But usually the goal's to get the other man convinced and relaxed enough that giving into that 'sin' doesn't sound like such a terrible idea. But Todd's not a late-night find in a saloon, taken out into the dark to keep the townspeople off their backs, alcohol burning deep into their guts. He's a target. A little teasing won't do any harm, but sleeping with him is something else entirely. Nothing's going to come of it. Nothing can.

“It’s not natural,” the kid says, with all the bitterness and self-loathing Slade’s familiar with hearing. Like they’re all reading out of the same book.

He scoffs. “Been this way my whole life, don’t see how it could be anything but natural.”

The kid twists enough to glare at him, and then demand, “How the hell are you so open about it?”

Slade doesn’t do the kid the disservice of laughing, but he does smirk. “I’m very capable, and very dangerous,” he points out, “and anyone that has a problem with the fact that I sometimes fuck men instead of women is welcome to tell me that to my face.”

The kid shifts, curiosity taking over his expression. “Has anyone?”

“Some,” Slade offers, easily enough. “Idiots, drunkards, and one or two men that thought they’d use it as an excuse not to pay me for my work. They thought better of it.” He lifts his gaze to the plains ahead of them, considering how he wants to phrase things for a moment before he continues, “Whether it’s what God intended or not, I am what I am, and the only way anyone is going to force me to be otherwise is to kill me. No one's managed it yet.”

Todd falls silent after that, at least for a time. Slade leaves it be. He’s pressured men before, to admit what they are, or do what they were wary about, but coaxing tends to be more effective. Not that it matters, with Todd. Kid’s not long for this world, and Slade’s not going to get anything out of him accepting that he likes men as well as women. Why bother?

“Do you think it’s possible?” Todd eventually asks, a long time later. It’s an almost-startling breaking of the quiet around them, but Slade shakes it off before he can do anything as dumb as flinch.

He takes a breath, considers how many things the kid could be talking about. He could probably make a good guess, but easier to say, “Going to have to be more specific than that, kid.”

The pause is long enough Slade considers that the kid might have decided not to ask after all, before Todd inhales more deeply.

“Do you think it’s possible to not be… what we are?”

‘We.’ Good start.

Slade gives the question the consideration it deserves, quietly adjusting Diablo’s direction as he does with a minor nudge of one knee. “Maybe,” he eventually answers. “I’ve met some that have tried, but none that I know of have succeeded. But if they had, suppose you wouldn’t be able to tell. Is that what you want, kid? Just pretend to be normal till you are?”

He can feel the shift of muscle that makes up the kid shrugging, though he’s still looking out somewhere distant, over the grass. “Would make things easier.”

“True.” He hums an amused note. “Easy’s never appealed to me, personally. Everything worth doing has some challenge to it, far as I’m concerned.”

Todd grunts, sounding not quite convinced. Still, he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t agree, either, but Slade’s not looking for agreement, just a diversion. May as well pass the time with talk, if the kid’s willing. It’ll pass the next two days faster than silence.

“Is that why you’re a bounty hunter?”

It’s a blatant topic change, but Slade decides to let that go unremarked. “Somewhat. For the most part, it just happened to fit my skills.”

Todd snorts. "What… murder, shooting, and hogtying people?" The kid twists to look at him when Slade laughs, amused despite himself at the distilling of his entire military career into that one sentence. "What? That's what you _do_."

Slade chuckles, lower now, and shakes his head a bit. The kid's not wrong. Not entirely.

"How'd you even learn that?" Todd asks, when he apparently decides that Slade's not going to give him any other answer but the laugh. "Not exactly normal, is it?"

"More normal than you'd think." He's been honest so far, why not a little more? "I was in the military."

The kid squints at him, gaze flicking rapidly from his missing eye, to his beard, and then back up to his hair. "How did that work?"

Slade lifts an eyebrow. "Are you asking for a story, boy?"

By the moment of hesitation, he wasn't, but Todd rallies quickly enough. Takes a slow, obvious glance around the otherwise deserted plains they're in the middle of. "You got a better idea for how to pass the time, old man?"

"I might," Slade drawls, but when Todd shoots him a sharp look, he smirks and relents. "I suppose I can keep you entertained for a time. Ready to listen, kid?"

"Well it's not like I've got anything better to do." Todd shifts, leaning back against his chest and settling in, blowing out a breath. "Go ahead."

* * *

The manor's as ostentatious as Slade remembers it being, when they finally get there. Big, sprawling, no taste and no class; just the blatant display of a lot of wealth, and the clearly armed collection of men that made that wealth happen. Slade gave up judging his 'clients' a long time ago, but this one still disgusts him a little. Roman Sionis is a pig hiding in the skin of a man, and judging by how he'd talked, more than a bit of a sadist on top of that. Slade's never appreciated cruelty for the sake of it. Pain should serve purpose, in his book.

Still, he's here for the reward, nothing else. What Sionis does to the kid, or what he does with his little corner of the world, doesn't concern Slade. It doesn't matter, and he doesn't care.

"Don't suppose you'd listen to any last ditch efforts to convince you not to do this, would you?" Todd asks, his tone making it clear enough he already knows the answer. He's staring at the manor, tenser than he's been in days now that he's face to face with the end of their journey. That's understandable.

Slade doesn't give an answer. The kid knows. He could say it, but that won't change anything. He'll do what he's being paid to, regardless of what else he's offered or bribed with. That's why he has a reputation, and he can't set that aside for some boy, no matter what he—

The kid's a target, that's all. A few days of company and conversation don't change that.

He clicks his tongue for Diablo to speed up just a touch, closing the last stretch of distance. There's a hitching rail outside the outer wall that he heads for, enough of a decent set up to at least have a trough of water and a couple trees for shade. He won't be here that long, anyway. It's good enough.

He dismounts to tie Diablo to it, loose enough he can pull free if he needs to. He won't wander off.

"Alright, come on, kid." He holds both arms up to the kid, careful to stand at enough of an angle that kicking him won't do much. Kid hasn't given him any real fight in a couple days, but desperate men do desperate things. Kid's smart, and dangerous.

Todd glances down at him, then to the loose loop of Diablo's reins over the rail.

"He won't run for you," Slade reminds him, matter of fact but patient. "You're just gonna end up in the dirt, kid."

"I know," he gets in response, quickly enough. Then the kid breathes out, visibly lowers both shoulders, and shifts to lift his other leg over the saddle and drop down.

Slade grunts a bit at the weight, and the flare of pain from his injured arm, but it's nothing serious. Easy enough to set the kid down on his feet, and then consider the loop of rope around his chest and arms. He'll have to walk in on his own; Slade's not interested in carrying him over a shoulder, even if he probably could. So, some kind of a lead. Hate to leave behind two separate coils of rope, though. Maybe better if he just lashes the kid's hands together at his back. It only has to hold as long as it takes to get the kid inside, after all. Yeah, that's preferable to having to replace two lengths of rope.

"Appreciate it if you didn't give me too much hassle, kid," he says, as he grabs a second coil from Diablo's saddle.

Todd eyes him, clearly preparing to do just that, and Slade bites back a sigh. No, the kid's got no incentive to make things easy for him. In fact, he's got every reason not to.

In a sharp burst of movement he sweeps the kid's legs out from under him, and is on top of him the moment he hits the dirt. Todd struggles, snarls at him, but all he's got are teeth and legs, and Slade's been doing this a long time. It's not that hard to get the new rope around one wrist, then manhandle both arms to the kid's back as he loosens the original binding. A minute and probably a couple bruises later, he's got the kid's wrists tied at the small of his back, enough extra length to drag him wherever he wants, and his original rope reclaimed. Cost him a bite on his forearm, but it was through his duster. Won't be more than a bruise.

"I get it," Slade offers, as he drags Todd back to his feet. "I'd save the energy for your pissed off boss, though, kid. You're not going to get anywhere with me."

The kid snarls at him, wordless, but Slade doesn't take offense. Kid had to try.

One hand coiled in the rope and the other in the kid's hair gives him a solid enough hold to steer Todd towards the open gate. The guy at it, leaning against the wall and clearly bored out of his skull, only jerks his head in the direction of the manor itself and says, "Boss' been waiting for him. Go ahead."

Inside the wall there are more of Sionis' men. Scattered around the courtyard; at their horses, playing cards, more than a few with glasses in hand. Not exactly disciplined, but Slade's not here to judge that, either. (Even if it is, frankly, pathetic. A few good men could wipe this whole lot out with a half-decent plan.)

When they catch sight of Todd, some of the men start to jeer. Insults, name-calling, unimaginative harassment about not running far or fast enough. 'Dog with his tail between his legs' comes up, and so does 'pretty boy,' to Slade's amusement. Compared to this lot, Todd's definitely pretty. He doesn't seem to fit in among the quality of man Slade's seeing, which is interesting. Was he something other than a grunt?

Todd sneers back at all of them, but doesn't speak. Slade appreciates that; unfortunately it's still in his job description to keep the kid safe, at least until he's inside. It's easier to do that if he's not antagonizing all of the armed men around them.

No one tries to interfere. Slade pulls the kid across the courtyard and into the house, where the main door stands open. Sionis must have heard the commotion, because he's standing inside the entry hall, eyes narrowed. The moment he sees Todd, however, a smirk slides its way onto his face.

"Jason." His gaze flicks up to meet Slade's, the scarred skin of his face tightening as he grins. "Guess you're as good as your rep says, Wilson. Shut the door, would ya?"

He puts the kid on his knees first, with a hard shove and a small hook of one foot out from under him. Then, with the remaining length of the rope at Todd's wrists looped around one hand, steps away and pushes the door closed. Surprisingly, the kid stays down. Slade was half expecting him to lunge at Sionis the second he wasn't being actively held in place.

"Didn't get far, did you?" Sionis is mocking, when Slade turns back around. "You really thought you could hide right under my nose, Jason? Thought I wouldn't find out what you were doing?"

Todd shifts, balancing his weight on his knees, toes curled under him. Slade tightens the slack in the rope, just in case. "Why not? Worked right under what's _left_ of your nose for months, you didn't have a clue. We both know it wasn't you that found me out, Roman."

"No." Sionis steps forward, sinking down to a crouch. "But you know what I did find out? Talking to some of those guys you hung around in town with?"

It's only a bit, but Todd stiffens. Sionis' grin edges towards something nastier.

"Yeah, I found out your real secret. Found out that you're a freak of nature on top of being a traitorous little cunt, messing around with the men like you. The other _mistakes_."

Slade feels his shoulders draw tight too, as he puts together what Sionis is talking about. Men like Todd. Men like _them_. It's not an uncommon view, but it's been a long while since he had an employer that actually had reason to bring anything like that up around him. It's never happened by accident before.

"I only found out after you took the bounty, or I would have warned you," Sionis says to him, maybe misreading whatever his expression is giving off. "Didn't try anything with you, did he?"

It's not a real question, just like Sionis is only involving him in this conversation to get at Todd. Sionis could care less what he thinks, if he's reading the man right. And sure enough, his not-a-lie answer of, "It wasn't a problem," doesn't get him anything but Sionis returning all his attention to the kid between them.

He stands, palms smoothing down the front of the too-clean pants he's wearing, bright white and clearly some kind of parading of wealth. Why else have something so hard to keep clean in the middle of all this dirt and dust? It's not efficient. "It's not gonna be anyone's problem soon enough. Think I'll make it slow for you, Jayce. Take my time, give you a little taste of the hell that's waiting for you whenever I do decide to end your freak life. Warm you up for the devil, before I send you down."

Slade keeps a tight hold on his voice, refusing to let the disgust bleed in as he tightens the slack on the rope once more, tugging Todd back a couple inches and cutting in with, "You don't touch him till I get my payment, Sionis. No offense."

Brown eyes stare at him for a moment, expression fallen to a focus that might feel dangerous, if he were someone else. Then, Sionis smiles. Sharp, unfriendly, but not threatening as far as Slade reads it. "Of course. I'll go and get it. Keep him here for me, would you?"

Slade dips his head only enough to be considered acknowledgement. Sionis turns and strides off, leaving the door he pushes through open behind him.

"Well done on the bounty," Todd says suddenly, low and a little bitter. "Thanks for the company, I guess. Been better than most of what was around here the last few months."

"You weren't bad yourself, kid," he responds, more automatic than anything else.

"Thanks. Always wanted the approval of a murderous mercenary; one of my goals in life." Todd pulls at the ropes, but more in idle action, not like he thinks it's going to do anything. "So what's the plan now? You head to the next town? Find some other person to hunt down and bring back to some asshole like Roman?"

Slade doesn’t allow his teeth to grind together, even though his jaw twitches before he can stop it. "Probably."

"Great. Good for you. Maybe you can give them the whole speech about accepting what they are and all that bullshit, too. Know it's really going to be a comfort to me, before I die."

"Knock it off, kid," Slade warns, with a tug at the rope. "You're not changing my mind. Sionis pays for you, he gets you. Past that, I don't care what happens."

Instinct's always served Slade just as well as strategy. He can plan and follow through, prefers to if he has the information ahead of time, but when his gut tells him to do something, usually he listens. When his gut disagrees with his head, though, he tamps it the hell down and follows along with the part of him that is actually capable of thinking things through.

Logically, Roman Sionis is a wealthy businessman who is paying him quite well for the boy kneeling on the tile at his feet. He's likely to remember that Slade delivered this bounty unharmed, as requested, and if he needs work in the future, maybe Slade will get those jobs, too. He's a good contact to have. Loose on morals, big on cash, and very likely to make enemies. One of Slade's favorite combinations of traits.

Instinctively, and emotionally, Sionis disgusts him. Not that it matters. A client is a client. It's not his business what they do when they're not paying him.

He doesn’t _care_.

God _damn _it.

No footsteps yet. Sionis is still far enough away that he has time.

Slade steps forward, dropping to one knee behind the kid and pulling the smallest of his knives from its hidden spot in his boot.

"Wha—?"

"Not a word, kid," Slade orders, as he presses the blade into one of Todd's bound hands. "Don't do anything stupid, you understand?"

Todd's eyes are narrowed but confused, but then the click of Sionis' dress shoes announce his impending presence and Slade pulls away, pushing back to his feet and stepping back to his original position. He sees Todd palm the blade, and flip it to be hidden by the join of his wrists. If he’s as smart as Slade thinks he is, he’ll wait to cut the rope, at least all the way through. And he won’t try anything before Slade gets his money, at the least.

“Here you are,” Sionis says, holding up an envelope between his fingers. “The reward for the bounty, as promised.”

Slade takes it when Sionis comes close enough, breaking the seal to thumb through the neat bundle of cash within. Sionis makes a face that clearly shows what he thinks of Slade counting it right away, but he doesn’t say anything. It is rude, but he doesn’t trust Sionis an inch so he couldn’t care less what the man thinks of him. ‘Rude’ doesn’t matter next to ‘competent,’ anyway.

All correct. Paid in full upon delivery, as it should be.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he offers, tucking the envelope into his duster and then holding out the extra rope to Sionis. A black-gloved hand takes it, winding it even as Todd snarls. “If you need anything like this taken care of again, I might be interested.”

“I’ll keep you in mind,” Sionis says in turn, grinning once again.

“Wait!” Todd calls, as he turns to leave. “You’re… You’re really going to leave me here? Like this?”

Slade raises an eyebrow. At least the kid was smart enough not to say anything too plainly. It’s nothing more than a last-ditch effort to turn him, far as Sionis knows. “Told you before, kid. I don’t care what happens after my job’s done. Once I’m paid, it’s not my business anymore.” He looks to Sionis — pleased, annoyingly so — and lifts a hand to tip his hat, slightly. “Till next time.”

Sionis nods in turn. “Pleasure doing business, Wilson.”

He walks out.

The men have gone back to their leisure activities, an eye turned towards the mansion but nothing else. None of them hassle him, as he walks back through and heads for the outside of the grounds. He wants to put some distance between him and this damned place. Preferably before that knife comes out, whichever way it ends.

There’s nothing for the time it takes him to get back to Diablo, and remount. Todd’s mare follows as placidly as she ever does, apparently unconcerned with the lack of her master’s presence.

He’ll stop only briefly in the nearby town. Fill up on water, get a sense of which direction he wants to head next. Better he doesn’t linger, just in case Sionis gets the idea that he’s responsible for whatever damage Todd will manage. If he manages anything. If Sionis is left standing afterwards to have ideas like that.

It doesn’t matter to him. The kid will either live or he won’t, and Slade doesn’t care.

It's not his business.

* * *

Even with Slade half-expecting the kid to show up, it still catches him off guard when it actually happens.

One moment there's nothing but the night around him. The fire warm near his boots, horses hobbled to keep them near for the night, the only sound apart from them the faint chirps and rustles of the bugs and local wildlife. No other lights; nothing at all, beyond the company of the horses.

The next moment, a voice not more than ten feet to his left asks, "Why’d you do it?”

Slade jerks to his feet, and has his gun halfway to hand before his gaze actually falls on the man standing just at the edge of the fire’s light. Still, hands at his side, no weapon in either one but there's a holster at each hip, only a twitch of movement away. Todd. Alive, apparently in one piece. Apparently very, very quiet when he wants to be. That's good to know.

Cautiously, Slade lets the revolver drop the last half inch back into his holster, though he keeps his hand on it. "This is a good way to get yourself shot, kid."

Todd doesn't even glance downwards, only moves forward and further into the light, watching him steadily. "You've still never pulled a gun on me, you know. I'm starting to think you're all talk when it comes to that."

He's moving a bit stiffly, but Slade can't immediately pinpoint a reason why. Injury, though, more than likely. If the kid actually got through Sionis and all his men without a scratch, he's a lot more dangerous than Slade realized. Even if he didn't, he did manage to get much closer than anyone else has in a long time, without Slade noticing. Tracked him, too.

He's starting to wonder, more seriously, who Todd actually is. These kind of skills don't fit with what he saw of Sionis' operation.

"No bounty stopping me from putting a bullet in you now," he points out, as the kid comes up to him. Not close enough to grab, but close enough the gun won't be as effective. Good positioning to minimize any advantage. Not that the kid looks remotely afraid of him.

"No." Now the kid glances down to his gun, very deliberately. "Are you going to?"

Seems like a shame, risking a bit of his reputation for the kid, only to kill him now. Still, if he has to, he will. "Guess that depends on what you do."

Todd studies him for another few moments, then lifts both hands away from their respective holsters, holding them up towards either side of his head in pacification. He still doesn’t look scared. "Left behind a few things before, when I was in a hurry. Had a chance to grab them, this time."

Slade doesn’t ask what he’s talking about, only watches as the kid reaches beneath the vest he's got over a nice, clean, checkered shirt. New clothes, and it looks like the grease is out of his hair. Must have washed and changed after he killed… However many people he did, getting out of the manor. Must have been very secure in his safety, to do that. Makes him wonder if any of Sionis' men are even still standing.

The kid’s hand comes loose with a dark leather square, and even before he arches an eyebrow and flips it over, Slade knows what’s going to be on the other side.

A badge. Silver, and completely unmistakable.

Kid’s a damned marshal, which explains a few things. What he did to piss off Sionis, the competence, and the familiarity with his name, when he gave it. Slade’s run into his fair share of marshals before; wouldn’t choose to do it again, generally speaking. They’re skilled pains in the ass with too intense a focus on the ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ of it all, and if they could have pinned anything on him, Slade’s sure he’d have met the noose a long time ago. That, or become one of the outlaws he hunts. Neither option is appetizing.

“Told you there were things Roman left out,” Todd says, tucking the badge away again. “So?”

Slade considers for a moment more, before letting his hand fall away from his gun. “You’re young to be a marshal.”

It’s not a question, but Todd treats it like it is. “Been shadowing one since I was a kid. Natural job progression.” His hands lower, thumbs hooking in under his belt as he eases to stand a bit less straight. “I’ve got a brother that you’ve run into a couple times. He’s been real pissed that he can’t get anything to stick to you, considering we all know you’re not sticking to the legal, posted bounties.”

“Grayson,” he fills in, not quite willing to lower his guard enough to cross his arms, despite the urge to. Todd nods, shallowly.

Now he’s definitely not going to kill the kid. Marshals are more trouble than they’re worth to kill, and especially the brother of his fiercest pursuer. Grayson’s fun to mess with, but he doesn’t want to deal with the fury that would come from offing the kid’s little brother. Some kinds of passion are good, some make things all too serious.

“You’re not going to take me in, kid,” he decides to warn, even though the kid doesn’t look aggressive at the moment. If he’s as smart as Slade is getting the impression he is, though, he’ll wait for a chance to strike when he’s got the advantage. The moment Slade turns his back or drops his guard.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Todd takes one deliberate step closer, far enough now to be within range of a grab, if Slade wanted to strike first. “You've still got my horse, and the rest of my things. And you owe me a set of knives, too."

Slade lifts an eyebrow, staring down at the kid. "Oh, do I? Pretty sure I gave you a knife already, kid."

Another step, smaller but just as deliberate. Slade frowns, faintly, at the closeness. Kid still doesn't feel like he's about to attack, and he wouldn't want to get this close if he were. They've had this tussle; Slade comes out on top, and he would again.

"One. You still owe me two others, preferably a little bigger than that." Todd shifts, something nervous finally entering his expression, and Slade gets it in a sudden rush. The little flick of the kid's gaze, down and up again, cements it. "I've got an alternative, though, if you don't have them on you."

Now he crosses his arms, eyeing the kid with a bit more intention than before. "An alternative? Like what?"

The, "Teach me," isn't what he expects. It's… not the worst excuse he's heard, though, to be fair to the kid.

He plays along. "Teach you? What do you want to learn?"

That, apparently, is not a question Todd was expecting to get asked, because he hesitates a little. "Uh… Just, things from the fight," the kid backtracks, weight shifting backwards. "Things I don't know?"

The kid's floundering, obviously, and it's entertaining but not conducive to the goal here. Todd's goal, but Slade finds he's not opposed to it. Kid's not a target anymore, after all, and it had been easy to see how handsome he was right from the start. Young, competent, 'flexible' in more ways than one if he's come back, knowing what Slade is. It could be a lot of fun, getting to have his way with a boy like this.

Slade lifts a hand, and the kid's breathing picks up but he doesn't move away from the brush of fingers across his temple. "How about we start," he murmurs, leaning slightly in, "with teaching you how to flirt?"

The kid goes red. Sputters.

He lets himself grin, then. "Because that was truly awful, kid."

"Fuck off!"

"Shut up," he counters, and takes the last step forward to close the distance.

Once his mouth is on Todd's, the kid gives. Goes pliable, under the grip of a hand in his hair and the other at his waist. Palms press against his chest in turn, curling in his shirt and tugging him closer. His inexperience is clear, but the kid's not a bad kisser, overall. Just new at it, hesitant where he doesn't fully know what to do. Slade's kissed others that were worse at it; all teeth in an unpleasant way, or just doing their best to shove their tongue down his throat without anything else in the way of technique.

Even if he doesn't fully know what to do, Todd responds excellently. Small gasps, and when Slade does coax his mouth open to take a taste of further in, a quiet, muffled moan. He loops his arm around the kid's waist, dragging them all but chest to chest, and chases that moan to see if he can get another.

Only when he does — a stifled, breathless thing — does he pull back far enough for the kid to catch his breath. His cheeks are flushed, lips red and mouth parted a bit, eyes half shuttered. It's a damn good look.

He strokes his hand up the kid's back, tugging his head back to a sharper angle with the loose grip on his hair. When the blue-green eyes rise to meet his, he offers, "Not bad, kid."

For a moment, the kid doesn’t register it. Then, as clarity returns, his eyes narrow. "'Not bad'? Seriously?"

Slade lets his mouth curl in a lazy smirk. "Relax, I can fix it. With a little time."

It's about a week's ride to the next decent town, if he doesn't rush. Might be a nice change, to have company to share his nights with. He doesn't mind solitude, but he'll take a warm mouth or tight ass over his own hand any day, and if the kid really wants to be 'taught'... Well, Slade's got the experience of a lifetime. He knows a few things the kid's probably never even imagined.

"That an invitation?"

Slade makes a noncommittal noise, following the dip of the kid's spine with his fingers, till he hits the bottom of the vest. It's not. If the kid wants to do it, he'll enjoy it, but Slade doesn't care one way or another. It's just convenient.

Todd just looks at him for a couple seconds. Then his shoulders ease down as he exhales, relaxing just a bit. "Well, someone should keep an eye on you. Make sure the next bounty you take is a legitimate one. Might as well be me."

“Your bounty was legitimate,” Slade points out, though he’s letting his attention wander to the press of the kid’s hip up against his thigh. He’s taller than most people Slade’s taken to a bed. “If your sheriffs take bribes to put up private bounties, that’s not my problem. Corruption’s your job, kid, not mine.”

The flash of teeth from Todd isn’t threatening, really, just amusing. Better, though, is the way the hands in his shirt curl tighter, as Todd growls a, "Shut up," and then yanks him down.

It's not any better of a kiss than the first one, but that's alright. He's got time to fix that.


End file.
